This Is Halloween
by Browncoats and Floral Bonnets
Summary: Dean hates Halloween, and decides to spend a quiet night at his favorite bar. Of course, nights aren't often quiet for the Winchesters, and this is no exception. Featuring whumpy grumpy Dean and good brother Sam. Happy Halloween! Rating for mild violence and language.


"I found the cilantro," Sam said. "It was by the parsley and basil, which is _exactly_ where I said it would be...What are you doing?"

Dean was poking at a fake skeleton, a disgusted look on his face. "Look at this. This is ridiculous! I _hate_ Halloween!" He walked a few steps down one of the many aisles overflowing with Halloween candy and decorations and picked up a green witch's head. As he did so, its eyes opened and its jaw moved up and down as it let out a mechanical-sounding cackle. Dean looked at Sam. "See? This is just creepy. Bitch is right out of the freaking uncanny valley."

Sam snorted, though he was impressed at the reference. "Uh huh. Put that down. What else do we need?"

"Limes, tomato, and avocado. What's with candy corn? Crap's disgusting! It doesn't even deserve to be called candy. And jack o'lanterns? Waste of pumpkins!"

Sam rolled his eyes as he picked up an avocado and squeezed it. "Dean, you don't even _like_ pumpkin."

"It's still a waste!" Dean cried, picking up a tomato and making a face at it before putting it back.

Sam looked up from the avocados and at his brother. "Dude, are you just mad because you got busted for trick-or-treating when you were sixteen?"

"You were with me!"

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, because you _made_ me. You just wanted candy, and to see Chrissie Barnes dressed as a sexy bumble bee."

"She was a sexy fairy! And that's _not_ it! Halloween is where people run around pretending that all the _shit_ we deal with is fun. It's not! It's not fun! It's horrible and people _die_ Sam."

"I think you're over-reacting," Sam said, going back to his careful avocado selection.

Dean almost dropped the tomato in his hand as he looked at Sam with raised eyebrows. "Over-reacting? Let's think of some Halloween things! Scarecrows, those are fun right? Wrong! Some people tried to sacrifice me to a scarecrow one time! What about vampires? Nope! I got turned into one and it was one of the worst experiences of my life! And I've been to Hell _and_ Purgatory. Werewolves? Almost killed you. Witches? Almost killed me. Ghosts? Have almost killed both of us too many times to count! Halloween is the worst!"

Sam stared at his brother, not sure how to react to the outburst. Dean was busying himself examining the same tomato he'd been holding for the last minute. Sam sighed.

"It sounds like you're confusing Halloween with hunting. Dean, you know it's because of us that people don't have to be afraid of all that crap. It's because of us that most of them don't even have to _know_ about it. I know it's not really fair, but there's nothing anyone can do about that. Let them have their stupid holiday."

Dean grumbled something under his breath, putting the tomato into a plastic bag. Sam just smiled and shook his head. Dean hated most holidays.

That didn't mean Sam was going to let that ruin his fun.

"Ooh! Look! Sixlets are on sale! I'm gonna go get a bunch. And a cowboy hat!"

Dean looked over at him with a frown. "Why?"

Sam grinned. "I'm gonna pass candy out to trick-or-treaters!"

"Dressed as a cowboy?" Dean's words dripped with judgement.

"Uh, I was thinking scarecrow actually."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Oh my-you are unbelievable." He stormed away, taking the cart with him. "And Sixlets suck by the way!"

"Kids love Sixlets!" Sam called after him, grabbing an armful of bags of the candy before perusing the aisles for a cowboy hat. He had to settle for one that was slightly too small and, much to his dismay, plastic.

By the time Sam caught up to Dean, he was halfway through the checkout. He looked at the hat in Sam's hand and immediately started cracking up.

"Dean, come on, it's not that funny."

"Put it on," Dean laughed.

"No."

"Come on, put it on!"

" _No_."

"Put it on! Do it for me and-" He peered at the cashier's name-tag then looked back at Sam. "-Fiona!"

Fiona gave Sam a slightly helpless look and he heaved a sigh. "Dean…" he muttered, putting the Sixlets on the conveyer belt and the hat on his head. He immediately regretted it as Dean's laughter headed toward uproarious, drawing glances from other store goers that ranged in expression from amused to concerned.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean finally said, wiping an eye. "You know, I almost hate Halloween a little bit less."

"Yeah, well I'm glad you like it," Sam said, taking the hat off and handing it to Fiona with an apologetic smile. She rang it up and Sam pulled out his wallet to pay for the groceries as Dean packed everything neatly into paper bags.

They were halfway to the car when Dean said, "How the hell are you gonna hand candy out to kids? No parent is going to take their kid trick-or-treating to a freaking power plant. Dude, we live in a _bunker_."

Sam looked at him sideways. "You couldn't have thought of that before I bought a freaking ton of Sixlets and that stupid hat?"

Dean grinned. "My bad."

"Jerk."

" _Bitch_."

The car ride home was horrible of course, with Dean cracking jokes almost ceaselessly,until something on the side of the road distracted him.

"Whoa, Sam, you see that?" he said, slowing down.

"What?" Sam asked, sitting up and looking out the window with concern.

"Pooches is half-off all drinks tonight!" Dean cried with a big smile.

Sam rolled his eyes before spotting the sign. He felt one corner of his mouth lift up. "Dude, it says you have to be in costume. You _hate_ dressing up for Halloween. Every time we went trick-or-treating as kids you just threw on a white t-shirt and that red hoodie and said you were Elliott from _E.T._ "

"Don't worry, I've already got it all figured out," Dean said.

"Really," Sam replied.

"Yup."

"What is it?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and lifted an eyebrow. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Once they got home, Dean cooked dinner (some rather delicious fish tacos) and disappeared into his room. Sam cleaned up the kitchen before plopping down on the couch and turning on the tv, delighted when he turned to _It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!_

Dean finally emerged from his room halfway through the show, clean-shaven and in a suit with his hair fluffed up. He lifted his arms and turned in a circle.

"...That's your costume?" Sam asked.

"I'm Agent Mulder!" Dean cried happily. He reached into his pocket and threw something at Sam.

He caught it and opened it, then looked back up at Dean with a scoff.

"You have a fake FBI badge where your name is Fox Mulder? Hold on, this is an old picture. Where the hell did you get this?"

"You, uh...you remember Skeeter?"

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "That slimy son of a bitch? You are unbelievable."

"Yeah, well, it was a long time ago. I didn't have such good judgement back then. Now give that back, I need it for my costume."

Sam tossed it back. "You're a nerd."

Dean shrugged. "You wanna come?"

Sam smiled at the invitation. "No, thanks. You go. I'm watching this and then I'm gonna watch that movie _The Babadook_. But thanks anyway!"

"Uh huh. And I'm the nerd. See ya, dork." Dean waved and headed out.

Sam reached into the paper bag next to him and pulling out a bag of Sixlets and the plastic cowboy hat. He waited until he heard the sound of the bunker door closing before he perched it on his head.

xxx

"Teddy!" Dean cried, taking a seat at the bar. "I'll have the Jim Beam Signature, my good man."

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Ya sure?"

"Well, yeah. It's half-off, right?"

"You've gotta be in costume."

"I _am_ ," Dean said, pulling out his FBI badge and showing it to the bartender.

Teddy squinted at it. "Who the hell is...Fox Molded?"

Dean scoffed. "It's Mulder. From _The X-Files_!" He tried not to sound offended even though he kind of was.

Teddy rolled his eyes as he got a shot glass out from under the counter and poured Dean a drink. "Whatever."

Dean took a sip and grinned. The more expensive stuff was good. Not twice the price as the other stuff good, but good.

"You like it?" Teddy asked, sounding amused.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You've got this goofy grin on your face," Teddy responded, looking down to wash some glasses.

Dean frowned. "Goofy? I don't know about _goofy_."

He shook his head and turned his attention to the tv in the corner. It was old and small and a piece of junk, and between the tiny screen and the shitty reception Dean had no idea what teams were playing, though he was pretty sure they were playing football.

"Hey, can you turn that up?" a guy asked from opposite end of the bar.

"You know I keep it muted, Coop," Teddy said. "Hell, I'm not sure the volume even works anymore. But I can get you another drink."

Coop muttered something under his breath before ordering another drink. Dean took a sip of his whiskey to hide his smirk. As much as he enjoyed hot girls in skimpy costumes, there was something amusing and almost oddly charming about the usual crowd, which consisted of a bunch of grumpy construction workers and farmers and, on occasion, one particularly vitriolic woman that was older than the hills and had a mouth like a sailor.

"Hey, Teddy, you think Pearl will come in tonight?" Dean asked.

Teddy shook his head. "Oh, no. She loves Halloween. Dresses up as a witch or some such and passes out candy apples to the littles."

Dean let out a laugh of surprise. "I would not have guessed that."

"Mm hm."

Dean was about to ask what else he should know about the people in Lebanon when the door opened and a group of a dozen or so rowdy twenty-somethings burst through the door, led by a blonde bombshell who, Dean realized with a mixture of horror and wonder, was dressed as what appeared to be a sexy version of a member of Kiss.

"Who is that?" Dean asked. Lebanon, Kansas, population 205, wasn't exactly known for its nightlife, especially with college kids.

Teddy looked up at the group of young people-who already seemed like they'd had plenty to drink-and his eyes narrowed just slightly, which was more reaction than most people got.

"That'd be Penny Whicker, Jim's daughter. He and his wife are at some conference down in Texas so she's watchin' the house while they're gone. Now the rest of 'em, well…" He trailed off, still watching the newcomers.

"Mr. Reynolds!" Penny called with a big smile. "Do you mind if my friend Mark changes the music?"

A shirtless guy with a tricorn hat and eyepatch, presumably Mark, waved over the head of pregnant nun.

Teddy looked at him, then back to Penny and sighed. "Yeah, I suppose."

Dean felt his eyes widen. He'd never heard anything but the same three bluegrass CDs play in Pooches, and something gave him the impression that Mark didn't go in for banjo and Southern harmonies. He was proven right a few moments later when the mandolin solo that had been playing was replaced with thumping bass. He glanced over at Coop, who was looking sour as he took some bills out of his wallet and set them on the counter before pushing his way out of the bar. Penny took his place a moment later. Dean looked pointedly away from her.

"I'd like a rum and Coke please, Mr. Reynolds," she said.

"Teddy's fine," Teddy grumbled.

Penny turned to Dean. "I've never seen you here before. You're not the...usual type."

Dean looked over at her. "I don't think blonde…Which one are you supposed to be?"

She looked confused for a moment before realizing what he was asking and let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh! Yeah. Starchild. Demon threw up then passed out on one of the spare beds, and Catman went to one of the other spare rooms with sexy Waldo."

Dean made a face. "Like... _Where's Waldo_ Waldo?"

Penny took her glass from Teddy and had a drink. "Yep."

"Ugh."

"Yeah, you're telling me. That's something I _can't_ unsee." She giggled and finished her drink before hopping off of her stool. "I'm gonna dance. You wanna dance?"

Dean smiled. "No, thanks. I don't dance."

She clasped her hands together in mock pleading. "Oh, come on! Look at those idiots. None of them do either."

Dean took a drink of his whiskey "Naw, I'm good."

She pouted at him before going to join her friends in what was basically a mosh pit, since there was barely enough room for all of them in the small bar. Dean just shook his head. While he was a fan of drinking and women, he'd never been a partier. He could probably blame it on his upbringing- the fact that besides his brother he'd been a lone wolf pretty much since the age of four, that he'd never stayed in any one place for longer than a few months, that he'd been raised to be an emotionally stunted clam of a person. The real explanation was much simpler: it was bad enough being drunk and stupid alone, and only marginally better with a partner. Being in a whole group of drunk and stupid people sounded terrible.

Dean drank in solitary silence, as the other three patrons that were older than twenty-four years of age had already made themselves scarce and Teddy was about as social as a Trappist monk. He didn't really mind it. As much as he loved Sam, it was nice to have the occasional bit of alone time. He was about to order another drink, that one that would hopefully take him just to the brink of stupid, when there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and there was Penny, a smile on her face that looked forced and borderline desperate.

"You wanna take a smoke break?" she asked.

"I don't smoke," Dean replied.

" _Please_! Will you just-will you please come with me?" she pleaded. She leaned down closer to Dean and lowered her voice. "You see the guy over there in the toga?"

Dean spotted the guy in question and grimaced. The guy was ripped and oily and looked like he'd been using steroids since he could walk. "Yeah. _Animal House_ deserves better."

"That's Trey. He's been coming onto me all night and I'm afraid if I go out alone he'll follow me. I'd ask one of the other guys but they're his friends plus they're all totally _plastered_ and-"

"I got it," Dean interrupted, getting up from his stool. "I'll come with you. I guess I'll wait on that drink, Teddy."

"Thank you," Penny breathed, practically sagging with relief.

"No problem," Dean said, following her to the back door and out into the chilly night air. They stood under the pale light of the single bulb at the outside, Dean with his hands crammed into his pocket as Penny reached into her small purse and pulled out a pack of Camels and a pink lighter with a glittery monogrammed _P_ on it.

"You sure you don't want one?" she asked, holding out the carton.

"I'm sure," Dean said.

"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug, lighting her cigarette. She took a drag and looked over at Dean. "I never got your name."

"Dean," Dean said. "You know those things'll kill you."

Penny rolled her eyes. "You're one to talk."

Dean's heart jumped. There's no way this girl knew who he was, not unless-

"I saw you with that whiskey," Penny said, and Dean almost laughed.

Of _course_ she didn't know.

"You drank it like it was water," she continued. "Your liver's as screwed as my lungs are."

Dean smiled. "You got me there," he said. He looked at her as she smoked. She looked over at him looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Why do you hang out with that douchebag?" he asked. "It's pretty obvious you don't like him."

Penny took a long drag, staring into the darkness, then shrugged. "It doesn't matter if I don't like him. My friends like him, so if there's a party he hears about it and he's there, hitting on every girl he sees and bragging about his sexcapades as though that's something everyone wants to listen to. Honestly, it's a miracle I haven't punched him in his smug face."

The words had barely left her mouth when the back door opened, revealing, much to Dean's chagrin, Trey, looking plastered and annoyed.

"The hell are you out here for?" he slurred, lurching toward Penny. "Party's inside, sweet stuff."

"I'm having a cigarette with Dean," Penny said. "Why don't you go back inside? You know, Liz has been trying to get your attention all night, you should-"

"Liz? I don't wanna...Liz? That stupid bitch?"

"Hey," Dean said, taking a step forward. He didn't know who Liz was, but there was no way she deserved that from him.

Trey looked at Dean for the first time since he'd come out of the bar, sizing him up with an infuriating smirk on his face.

"What're you gonna do, pretty boy? You don't wanna wrinkle that fancy suit," Trey said, taking another step toward Dean. He looked over at Penny, who had moved so that Dean was directly in front of her. "C'mon. This guy's a dick. Why don't we go back in, have a dance, then maybe go in that back room and you can gimme a quick-"

"Alright, that's enough," Dean said, grabbing a fistful of toga and closing the gap between himself and Trey. "Why don't you go back inside, huh? Leave her alone. She's not interested."

Trey pushed Dean's arm away. "What are you gonna do, old man?" he said, chin up and jaw tight. Dean knew a challenge when he saw it.

"Look, just go back inside. We don't have to have a problem."

"Too late," Trey said.

"Don't!" Penny cried at the same time Trey threw a punch.

Dean saw it coming and easily caught Trey's fist, twisting his arm down before punching him in the nose. Trey stumbled backwards, tripping on his toga and falling hard. He put a hand to his bleeding (likely broken) nose as he scrambled to his feet.

"You're dead," he said, pointing at Dean as he backed toward the door. "You're fucking dead!"

Dean just rolled his eyes as Trey stormed back into the bar. He turned to Penny, who looked like she was trying not to cry, and who was at the end of her cigarette.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. That guy's such a dick!" She flicked her cigarette butt to the cold cement and ground it under one high-heeled foot.

"The hell are you sorry for?" Dean asked. "That's not your fault."

"I know, but-" Before she could finish, Trey burst out of the bar, followed by three shirtless guys in boardshorts and spray tans.

"Who the hell are they s'post to be?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Pauly D, Ken doll, and a spring breaker," Penny answered. She sounded worried. "Would you guys just go back inside?"

"You're right, that guy does look like an older Joey Tribbiani," one of the spray tans said, and the others laughed. "How did this guy break your nose?"

"Shut up!" Trey snapped. He pointed at Dean. "This is your only chance, old man. Apologize, leave, and we won't kick your ass."

"You guys don't wanna do this," Dean said, loosening his tie.

Trey and his pack moved forward until he was toe to toe with Dean, chest puffed out and a sleazy smile on his damaged face.

"I kinda do," he said.

Dean slipped off his jacket and handed it to Penny, maintaining eye contact with Trey as he did so.

"Dean, don't," she said, stepping up beside him and addressing the small gang of shirtless punks. "Guys, this is stupid! Please just go back inside."

"Shut your mouth, bitch," Trey snapped, turning to Penny. Dean took advantage of his being distracted and slammed his forehead down, crunching Trey's already busted nose.

"Shit!" Trey cried, falling backward into his cronies. "Kick his ass!"

And just like that, Dean was fighting four drunken, roided up idiots that were barely into their twenties. It wasn't too hard at first, but they were surprisingly energetic considering how much alcohol they'd no doubt consumed. Dean was beginning to suspect they were probably on something else when he heard the sound of breaking glass behind him and Penny screamed.

"Dean, look out!"

He turned around in time to see Trey coming at him with a broken bottle and his hand flew up on instinct. The sharp edge of the glass sliced his palm open, and he swore profusely as warmth spread down his hand. He was about to try and disarm the little shit when something connected with the back of his head, knocking him to his knees.

"Dean!" Penny cried.

"Get out of here!" Dean yelled, just before he took a blow to the ribs. He grunted, tried to stand, but there was a wild storm of fists and feet beating down on him from all sides and he fell back to the cold ground. He managed to curl up on his side and put his arms up, protecting his head, ribs, and belly as best he could. He was reaching for the knife at his ankle when he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.

"Y'all quit that!" someone shouted, and Dean had never been so glad to hear Teddy in all his life.

The blows stopped and Trey spat on the ground next to Dean's face.

"What're you gonna do, grandpa? Shoot us? The kick on that thing'll knock you right on your ass." There was laughter from the gang, which was quickly silenced upon the sound of a shot being fired.

"You boys need to leave," Teddy said. "Get the hell out of here or so help me the next round will go through your kneecap."

There was a moment of silence before Trey finally said, "Let's go. This place is horseshit anyway."

Dean turned over to face the bar, groaning as he did. The three tan douchebags were trudging back into the bar, Trey bringing up the rear. He stopped in the doorway and looked at Teddy with narrowed eyes.

"You can bet that my dad will-"

"Your dad will be hearing about this?" Penny interrupted, appearing at Teddy's side. "If your dad hears about this, then he'll also here about what actually happened to his Audi. And about what you were actually doing on that so-called study abroad. From what I've heard, you can't afford any more strikes if you want to keep that inheritance."

Trey muttered something Dean couldn't quite catch before pushing past Penny and Teddy and disappearing into the bar. Dean pushed himself up onto one elbow and instantly regretted it as the world seemed to pitch beneath him, black spots encroaching on the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw was Penny kneeling in front of him, mouthing something he couldn't hear.

xxx

Amelia had just awoken tied in the basement when Sam's phone rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He scrambled for the remote, pausing _The Babadook_ before answering his phone.

"Hello?"

" _Is this Sam Winchester?"_

Sam frowned. "Yeah, who's this?"

" _It's Teddy, from Pooches."_

Sam closed his eyes, pinching his nose in frustration."What'd Dean do?"

" _There's been a...a bit of a scuffle. I tried to call an ambulance but Dean insisted I call you instead."_

"An _ambulance_?" Sam said, getting to his feet. "Is he okay?"

" _He's a little banged up. Says he don't need a hospital, though."_

"Shit," Sam breathed, running long fingers through his hair. "I'll be right over. Do you know if any taxis are running this late?"

Teddy let out a low hum that Sam thought might be a laugh. " _Got no taxis here."_

Sam swore internally. "And no Uber I take it?"

" _Son, I don't know what that is. Look, my boy Johnny is here, I'll have him go over there in the pick-up and he'll bring you by. What's your address?"_

"Uh-um, well-" Sam stammered, not sure what to say. He sighed. "Look, just have him pick me up by that old power plant."

" _Okay. He'll be there soon."_

"Alright, thanks Teddy," Sam said, hanging up and putting his phone in his pocket.

He turned the tv off and grabbed his jacket and shoes, throwing them on before hurrying out of the bunker and out into the cold night air. He bounced on his heels, partially to keep warm and partially because of nerves. Dean had to be in pretty bad shape if he wasn't calling Sam himself. And he was a good fighter. There were several scenarios that could have led to him getting his ass handed to him, and all of them sucked. Sam stopped bouncing long enough to kick at a rock on the ground, listening to it skitter into the darkness. He was getting more anxious by the second, and was about to call Teddy back when he saw headlights. A few seconds later, a beat up old Ford pickup pulled up next to him, driven by a kid who looked like he was about fourteen. He leaned over the seat and cranked the passenger window halfway down.

"You Sam?" he asked, his voice surprisingly deep.

"Yeah," Sam answered, and the kid unlocked the door. Sam opened it and clambered into the truck, and the kid backed up and turned around. "You must be Johnny."

"Uh huh," Johnny said.

"Are...are you actually old enough to drive?" Sam asked.

"Yup."

Sam nodded, sitting in the awkward silence for only a moment before he decided he liked awkward conversation better. "So do you work at Pooches?"

Johnny shook his head. "Naw. Pop doesn't want me working there. I was only there tonight cus I got grounded and he wanted to make sure I didn't run off somewhere."

Sam forced a smile. "Yeah, getting grounded is the worst," he said, as though he'd had a dad that was around enough to actually enforce a grounding. "What'd you do?"

A corner of Johnny's mouth lifted, his face changing for the first time. "My friends and I TP-ed my history teacher's house and painted his prize pig orange."

"That sounds like something my brother would do," Sam said.

"My dad likes Dean," Johnny said. "He'd never admit it, though so don't say anything."

"How is Dean?" Sam asked, relieved that he finally got to ask the question that had been on his mind the whole time.

"He got whupped good, but he was pretty feisty when I saw him last."

Sam let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Feisty was good. Dean was probably fine. "It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last," he said.

And then they were there, at the back of Pooches.

"Come on," Johnny said, turning the truck off and pocketing the keys. "I'll take you to the back room."

Sam got out of the pickup and followed the kid into the back room of the bar where a blonde girl dressed as...something was holding a bag of ice to the back of Dean's head. As for Dean, well.

"You look like you've been hit by a truck," Sam said hurrying forward. Dean's face was mostly unscathed, save for a small scrape on one temple. His unbuttoned shirt, however, revealed where the brunt of the damage had been taken. Bright red bruises littered his torso, and he was taking shallow breaths. "What happened, Dean?"

Dean looked up at Sam with a grimace. "Oh. Hey, Sammy. I pissed off some frat bros. But I'm fine, you can just take me home."

"He got hit in the head with with a bottle," the girl said. "I'm Penny, by the way. This is all kinda...my fault."

"It's not your fault," Dean said, and winced. "And I'm fine."

"You got hit in the head with a bottle and you're _fine_?" Sam said. "Dean, you-"

"Look, it was an empty bottle and it didn't even break. I'm not dizzy or seeing double or puking or anything. Just-would you just take me home, Sam? Please?" He stared at Sam, and there was defiance under the pain.

"Alright" Sam said. There was no sense arguing with him here. "Keys?"

Dean reached slowly into his pocket and produced the car keys, handing them to Sam with a glare. Sam looked over at Penny.

"Thanks for helping him," he said, taking Dean's outstretched hand in his own. "Ready?"

"Yup," Dean said, and Sam pulled. Dean grunted in pain, his face tightening as he got to his feet. Sam grabbed Dean's arm and pulled it around his shoulders.

"I'll get the door," Johnny said, hopping up from the seat Sam hadn't notice him take.

"Thank you, Dean," Penny called as Sam and Dean made their way out of the back room.

"You're welcome, Starchild," Dean responded, looking back over his shoulder.

"Starchild?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, from Kiss," Dean answered.

" _That's_ what that costume was?" Sam said.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, I know. Crazy right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's crazy."

It took a bit to make it around the car and to the Impala, and by the time they got there Dean was practically panting. He collapsed into the passenger seat and groaned as Sam rounded the car and climbed behind the wheel.

"Alright, I didn't wanna hash this out in there, but I'm taking you to the ER," Sam said, starting the car.

"You are not," Dean said.

"Dean, look at you!" Sam said, gesturing at his brother's bruised body.

"No, Sam. That's it. You take me to the ER, and they call the cops. Those trust fund baby douchebags didn't exactly get away scott-free, and if police get involved, I know whose side they're gonna land on. Look, I don't have any broken ribs, no concussion-"

"How do you know?" Sam interrupted.

"Because I know!" Dean cried. "I've had enough broken ribs and concussions in my life to know if I have broken ribs or a concussion. Look, I'll get home, put some ice on my...everything...and take it easy for a few days, okay?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "Fine," he said finally. "But if you show even a sign that you might be concussed, I'm taking you in."

"Fine. Now will you get a move on? I could use a beer."

Sam opened his mouth, then shut it again and drove.

xxx

It wasn't until they were in the bunker that Sam noticed the cloth tied around Dean's hand, just a bit of red visible.

"Dean, what happened to your hand?"

Dean looked at it. "Oh yeah. That. Broken bottle."

Sam sighed. "Let me see."

Dean frowned as he took a drink of beer. "What? Sam, it's _fine_. How many times have we sliced or palms for sigils or-"

"Dean," Sam said. "Let me see."

Dean rolled his eyes and unwound the cloth, Sam peeking over his shoulder as he did.

"Dude, would you stop breathing down my neck?" Dean said, right as he finished. "Oh. Shit." He looked back at Sam. "Dude, it's like a freaking _canyon_."

"That definitely needs stitches," Sam said. "I'll go get the suture kit."

A minute later, Sam was stitching Dean's hand while Dean whined and drank his beer. Byt the time he finished, both of them were annoyed with each other.

"Dude, those aren't even straight! I should've done it myself!"

Sam's eyebrows knit together. "You would've done a better job using one hand? Your left hand?"

Dean grumbled something under his breath, then swore.

"What?" Sam asked.

"I gotta take leak, and the bathroom is forever away," Dean said.

"Do you need help?"

"No!" Dean glared at him. "No I don't need help! Geez." He stood stiffly and made his way slowly to the bathroom while Sam went back to the couch and turned the tv on. He was about to watch the ending of _The Babadook_ when Dean appeared in his boxers and lowered himself onto the couch.

"Well, I'm no pissing blood so my kidneys are fine," he announced.

"Well that's good," Sam answered, grabbing a pack of Sixlets out of the bag. "You wanna maybe go somewhere else?"

"What?" Dean said, sounding genuinely offended.

"Dude, I'm about to watch the end of this movie! You'll spoil it for yourself!"

"I don't care, I'll figure it out! Just play the damn thing already."

"Whatever," Sam said, pressing play. Much to his surprise, Dean was quiet for the whole thing, not asking questions or yelling at the people onscreen. As the credits started rolling, Sam turned to Dean. "So what'd you think?"

"So…" Dean said. "So...Her dead husband was a ghost and possessed _and_ haunted her? What's Babadook, is that, like...her nickname for him?"

Sam tried, and failed, to hold in his laughter. And once it started, it was impossible to stop. His ab muscles were hurting and tears were in his eyes when Dean finally responded, a frown on his face.

"I told you, Sam. I fucking _hate_ Halloween!"

xxx

 **A/N:** First of all, Happy Halloween! I'm in the PNW, so it really is still Halloween for me. Second of all, I realize that their feelings toward Halloween and stuff don't comply with canon, I'm gonna go ahead and say that's fine. Cheers!


End file.
